Almost
by Some1tookmyname
Summary: Booth reflects on another near loss as he watches Brennan sleep.


**This is just for fun, I don't own Bones. Lord knows if I did most of Season 6 would have been different. Based on the promo for 6x22, I guess, though it was kicking around in my head before I saw that and I hesitate to say there are real **_**spoilers**_** in it, because it's just all guessing. If I happen to be correct, well that's just luck. But I'd like to think it's a good story even if 6x22 goes in a completely different direction. There are mentions of episodes past as well, but I want to lay odds that if you are enough of a Bones fan to be reading fanfic, you've probably seen them. All mistakes are mine. I hope I kept them to a minimum. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!**

**Almost**

He watched her sleep from the doorway.

His heart hurt as his eyes drank her in. The ache wasn't from her beauty, though she was gorgeous. It wasn't from wanting to lay beside her, to hold her, although he did. It wasn't from the way there was, for these brief few moments, peace on her face, though there was. To be perfectly honest, it wasn't even from the rise and fall of her chest, giving him concrete proof that she was alive and breathing.

The ache came from the knowledge that he'd almost lost her and all that was almost left unsaid.

It certainly wasn't the first time she nearly died, not by a long shot. Early on there had been Kenton, then Taffett. She'd had a hit taken out on her, been shot and shot at, stabbed, nearly hit by a car…..it made him uncomfortable and angry and guilty to think about any of it.

And then there were the times he nearly lost her in other ways. The times when their own stubbornness or stupidity or even their own fears had gotten in the way. The first time was that first case, when they had fought so nastily after that amazing, drunken kiss and had nothing to do with each other for a year. Even then, he'd felt her absence, though he'd barely known her. Years later he'd tried to force her hand on the steps of the Hoover and he could feel her retreat into herself, all that progress they had made fading so fast he'd barely blinked. He had agreed to continue to work together for fear of losing her completely. It ate at him, but he couldn't not see her. He just couldn't.

But she'd run. And really, he had as well. The Maluku Islands and Afghanistan. A year apart. He had some thinking to do, some regrouping, and though she hadn't admitted it, she did too. And within that time he'd made a mistake of epic proportions…the one he wasn't sure they'd fully bounced back from, even now.

Hannah.

He winced as he thought about what his relationship with the blonde reporter had done to him and his beloved anthropologist. He had tried so hard to convince everyone he was totally in love with Hannah, including himself. If he just kept insisting on it, if he just kept saying he loved her, if everyone believed it, then it was true, right? He'd moved on, just as he had said that he would.

Only he hadn't. And when it turned out that the incomparable Dr. Brennan had taken time to think and regroup and was brave enough to say it out loud, he'd rejected her out of some kind of misguided loyalty to the woman who had followed him to D.C without invitation.

Things had gone downhill quickly from there, right up to a proposal that had, thankfully, not gone according to his plan. He'd been hurt, and took it out on his friend. He pushed her, trying to push her away, trying to purposely lose her so he could wallow in his own misery. But she stayed. She never wavered, never left. She'd taken his crap and stood by him, with him, navigating him through his worst days.

They were still working their way back from those days. Things had been improving. They were buying the baby's gift together. They had drinks after cases together like they used to. They'd even confessed some of their mistakes and lies to each other, cleared the air, made vague promises regarding the future. Their future.

But then today happened, and none of those things had been enough.

At the crime scene that morning, he'd gotten _that_ feeling, the one he couldn't explain or put a name to, but the one that never failed him. The hairs had stood up on his arms and the back of his neck and he knew they were being watched. His eyes swept the perimeter from the ground up to the rooftops. He saw nothing, but he knew, he _knew _someone was observing their every move. And with Broadsky still out there, he wasn't going to take any chances.

He'd guided her back into the Sequoia after barking an order that everything be hauled back to the Jeffersonian. She'd protested that she wanted to look at more, and could do it just as well right there if not better than at the Jeffersonian. He took her arm and said into her ear "Something's off" in that voice that told her there would be no discussion. She'd acquiesced, sensing this was bigger than any argument she could give. She let him open her door and usher her in, closing it when she was settled. He'd driven quickly off from the scene, wasting no time in getting away from whatever, whomever, was causing his uneasiness.

The feeling had subsided quickly and once she was safely installed at the Jeffersonian, he could breathe. It was one of the most secure buildings in the city.

How quickly false security could be shattered.

He'd been more than halfway across town, halfway to questioning a suspect. She'd stayed behind to examine the bones of that day's victim now that all the flesh was removed. He'd been thinking average, ordinary guy things: how the car was due for an oil change, what he would do with Parker that upcoming weekend, if Bones would want Thai for dinner, when he heard his radio crackle and everything vaulted into slow motion:

"All available units to 3434 Jeffersonian Blvd. Shots fired."

Thinking back now, he could only remember the words. He didn't remember making a U-turn, although he obviously had. He didn't remember hitting the siren, though of course he did. He pushed his gas pedal, and the general safety of the DC public along with it, to it's absolute limit trying to get to the Jeffersonian, to her, to his Bones. His urgency, his speed, was almost as if he thought he could still beat the bullets to their intended target. He could still save her.

But traffic was stopped two blocks away from his destination. Ambulances and DC police had beaten him there and the gridlock had already begun. He'd been told later that he'd left his vehicle in the middle of the street, door open, engine going, but he didn't remember that either. He only remembered running. He couldn't get there fast enough. He heard the shouts of gawkers as he pushed through them, saw spotlights that he only later realized belonged to the media. He just kept running, flashing his badge, screaming "FBI!" to help slice through the bystanders, to clear his path.

He knew at some point he had begun to pray. Was it praying? More like bargaining, really. "Please, God, just don't let it be her. Please, just let her be okay. I'll give anything…please, just let her be okay." Over and over and over. He couldn't breathe, and it wasn't from the running.

He'd sprinted up the steps of the Jeffersonian, taking them 3 and 4 at a time, ignoring anyone who tried to stop him, still waving his badge. He stopped short of the platform, his heart plummeting at what he saw at the foot of the stairs.

"Angela" he'd whispered upon seeing the tearful artist sobbing against her husband's chest, both their clothes stained with blood. Suddenly he couldn't move. Utter fear grounded him to that very spot. He stood there, mouth open, unable to ask the question.

"She's okay, man." offered Hodgins quietly. "It wasn't her. Dr. B's okay."

Relief flooded him. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, thankful for Hodgins intuitively knowing what he needed to hear.

"Who…." he said hoarsely to the couple in front of him, but his eyes were already looking past them, looking for her.

"It was Vincent." shuddered Angela. "He's dead. We were all just standing there…" she trailed off, her tears spilling again. Hodgins held her close.

"Hodgins, take Angela to the paramedics, ask them to get a monitor on her and the baby. Make sure she's not in shock, ok?" Cam's voice broke through the chaos as she arrived next to Booth, squeezing his arm, both for support and to be supportive. Hodgins nodded numbly, escorting his wife outside.

Booth still couldn't see Bones. Out of habit he swiped his card through the security machine, but of course it had been disabled. He went up to the platform, did a 360, still, she wasn't there. He wanted to yell, but when he opened his mouth, his voice had left him once again.

"Try Bone Storage" suggested Cam quietly as she sidled up next to him. "That's where she goes when something's wrong, you know that. I will take care of things here. You go. Go take care of her."

He'd found his voice then, shaky as it was. "Bone Storage." It wasn't a question. He was glad Cam could think, because he'd lost the ability.

"She said once she thinks best in there. I can only imagine she'd be there after all this."

He was already gone before Cam's sentence was finished. He needed to see her. Now.

He opened the door to Limbo, and there she was, her back to him. She had a skeleton laid out on the table, a bone in her hand. He began to tremble, so incredibly thankful she was alive, but he said nothing. He knew that she knew he was there. He would let her lead. This is how they did this dance. How they'd always done it.

"I dropped a bone" she said quietly, after the silence had stretched out for what seemed like a wordless eternity.

He took a step towards her, but said nothing.

"I've been working with bones since my first day of college, longer, really and I've never dropped one. I'm always so careful. It's evidence, you know? You have to be careful." She put down the bone she'd been holding.

He took another step, but remained silent.

"But today, I dropped it. I'm not sure how that happened. But it just slipped though my fingers." She turned to look at him now, her eyes filling with tears. "I dropped it and he died."

He'd crossed the room in one swoop then, enveloping her in his arms as she truly began to sob. He sank against the nearest wall, sliding down, taking her with him, cradling her the entire time, reassuring her and himself with comforting whispers. "You're okay. It's okay. It's going to be all right. I've got you now. You're safe. You're safe."

And although the situation still felt unreal, she felt real in his arms. Real and alive and that's what had counted right then. The tears that soaked his shirt helped him to know she was still there with him. The tears that landed on her hair from him further proof he'd almost missed his chance. Again.

That was how he came to be watching her sleep 6 hours later. Statements had been given, pictures taken, evidence collected. Vincent Nigel-Murray was dead. She'd dropped a bone and when she'd bent to get it, the bullet meant for her had pierced his heart. He was a casualty of war, Mr. Nigel-Murray, a war Booth was going to end. But not before he eased the ache that was plaguing his heart. He wouldn't risk losing the chance to say what needed to be said anymore.

He crossed the room to his bed and brushed a wisp of hair from her face, knowing her sleep was not so deep that it wouldn't wake her. But he'd waited long enough. He wouldn't, couldn't, wait anymore.

"Hey" he said softly as she blinked awake.

"Hey yourself." she whispered back, sitting up beside him.

"Bones…" he began, his voice giving his emotions away, his words momentarily failing him.

"I know, Booth" she said.

"You know?" Booth asked, curious as to what she thought he was going to say. Reading people, even reading him, had never been her strongest ability but he knew that today it had all been written fairly clearly on his face.

"When I realized what had happened, who that bullet was meant for…all I could think was that we never got our chance. We deserve a chance. I've wasted so much time…" she let out a shaky little sob. "Time is as ephemeral as I once thought love was, really."

"Yeah, it is. And we have both wasted too much time. You… I couldn't get there fast enough. I couldn't…" He took a breath. "I have to end this thing with Broadsky. It has to stop."

"I know that, too." she answered. "But please be safe. You died on me once. I don't think I could live through that again. Not anymore." Her eyes searched his for comfort and promises. "He may have been aiming at me, but we both know I'm not the one he's really after." She leaned into his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her. "Please just promise me you'll be careful." It was unlike her to beg, but she needed his assurance.

"I will." He kissed the top of her head. "I don't want to start us like this. I don't want us, a real _us_, to be borne out of tragedy. I want to get him. I want to take him down and then I want to begin all over again with you. I want to take you to dinner. I want to make you laugh. I want to dance with you, make love to you, sleep beside you every night. I want to buy Christmas trees and bedroom furniture with you. Go grocery shopping. Bicker over checking accounts and who does the dishes and who takes out the garbage. I want to cheer Parker at his soccer games with you next to me, I want to take him trick or treating with you. Life, Bones. I want life with you, for however long time gives us."

She nodded into his chest, grabbing his shirt in her fist. "I want that too. Very much."

He laid down on the bed, bringing her with him, so she was wrapped in his arms, his chest as her pillow. He breathed deeply, feeling her hand over his heart, smelling her hair, noticing she'd used his shampoo in the shower. God, he loved her. So much.

But it didn't hurt anymore. There had been so many obstacles. One more wouldn't stop them, not now, not even Broadsky.

He held her close, rubbed her back, soothed her back into slumber.

And then, with a heart that was heavy yet hopeful, he joined her in sleep. They were almost there.

_Fin_

_See that button down there? I'd love you to click it and tell me what you think!_


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